


nothing beside remains

by nimueailinen



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: ALL THE SPOILERS, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimueailinen/pseuds/nimueailinen
Summary: She wakes to light.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got home from seeing Rogue One, put "Your Father Would Be Proud" on repeat, and promptly banged this out through my tears. It's my first piece of fic in... a year? Maybe more? And wholly unedited, at that, but _this movie,_ you guys. It broke my freaking heart.
> 
> This whole fic is one giant spoiler, don't say you weren't warned.

They win. 

None of them will survive their victory, but it is a victory all the same. They did what they set out to do, and someday soon, her father will have his revenge. She has to believe he will have his revenge. This is all that matters; the horizon is breaking before her eyes and there is so little else left.

_We win._

She presses shaking hands against Cassian’s back and wonders whether it will hurt. Whether she will see her family again. She has just enough time to hope that she will, that she’ll see all of them again, family of blood and family of choice ( _little sister_ , Baze had called her, and she had smiled at the name) – and then the world turns white behind her eyelids. For a horrible second, everything is heat and light and _pain_ , and then, mercifully, everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

And then she wakes up. 

 

* * *

 

She’s lying where the blast had thrown her, half-sheltered by the wreckage of an Imperial transport, still pressed close to Cassian. Between their chests, her mother’s necklace pulses like a living heart. 

( _The heart of a star_ , Chirrut had said, _a tool of the Force_ , and Jyn wonders –)

They’re either dead or staring into the face of a miracle, and she’s pretty sure they’re not dead, if only because she’d kind of thought being dead would hurt a lot less. Right now, she thinks she might actually prefer that. Every inch of visible skin on the both of them is covered in bruises and burns, and from the way the rest of her feels, she doesn’t think the skin under her clothes has fared much better. The fabric sticks to her in places, sending a white-hot jolt of agony through her every time she moves. She moves anyway. She has to.

She grits her teeth against the pain and forces herself upright, and at her side, Cassian opens his eyes and looks up at her. He doesn’t say a word. Neither does she. They don’t have to – they both know instinctively that this seeming reprieve is only temporary. They’re badly injured, stranded behind enemy lines with no food or resources; if they don’t find a way off this world, and soon, Scarif will kill them all the same.

 

* * *

 

For six long, terrible days, they scour the wreckage of a world, hoping against hope that they will turn up something – anything – that can still fly. For six long, terrible days, they find nothing but ruined ships and the blackened bodies of those they have neither the time nor the strength to mourn – not yet. Not yet.

On the seventh day, an Imperial shuttle lands near what little remains of the tower, and a handful of stormtroopers pick their way across the beach towards it.

“Checking to see if any records survived,” Cassian says, and his face goes taut with pain as he wraps his fingers around the blaster, but he picks off the two soldiers guarding the shuttle ramp with impressive neatness all the same.

And after that, it’s almost easy: one stormtrooper left on board who never sees them coming, no planetary shield left to bar their way, no Imperial ships lying in wait – after all, why waste resources on a murdered world? Even so, Jyn doesn’t relax until they fall out of hyperspace and the reddish bulk of Yavin’s gas giant fills the viewscreen, the greenish swirl that is its fourth moon growing larger with every passing second. 

“Attention, rebel base,” she says into the comm, flicking it to an open channel and _hoping,_ “If anyone’s still down there, this is Rogue One, requesting permission to land.”

There is a _very long_ silence from the comm. Then –

“Rogue One, transmit your clearance codes.”

Jyn glances over to where Cassian is slumped in the copilot’s chair. He’d lost consciousness as soon as they hit hyperspace, breathing weak but steady, and she’s reluctant to wake him now.

“I don’t know them, and Captain Andor’s injured and unconscious.” She holds her breath. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Another long pause. Below her, Jyn sees two X-Wings rising from the trees.

“Alright, Rogue One. You’re cleared to land. Red Squadron will escort you in. Don’t deviate from your course.”

For the first time in about as long as she can remember, she breathes easy.

“Hey.” She looks back towards Cassian. He hasn’t moved, eyes still closed and breath still faint, but she smiles at him all the same. “We did it. Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to save everybody, but there was only so much I could manage with deus ex kyber crystal and less than a thousand words.
> 
> Title from Percy Shelley's "Ozymandias," because I'm a pretentious fuck.


End file.
